


Kiss That Smile Goodbye

by chocobos



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:49:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames finally gets around to fixing his teeth. Arthur is devastated. Based on <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/17947.html?thread=45711899#t45711899%2">this</a> prompt over on the kink meme. Thanks to Cal for beta'ing this for me. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss That Smile Goodbye

Eames is an actor at best, a forger in perfection.

  


He’s the kind of person that knows what he wants, and neglects what he needs (unless it’s a priority), because he’s a man of indulgence, and nothing more. He’s no one that is particularly remarkable at first glance, which is how he bleeds perfectly into a large crowd; he can drop an act and pick up another one, so subtly that no one notices.

 

Arthur is the only one that he hasn’t got fooled.

 

Arthur notices everything. It’s not only his job to notice everything, to point out the faults of a plan and to have a back-up plan for the back-up plan, but he’s naturally observant. He knows a disaster when he sees one, he knows when to surrender and when to push forward.

 

It happens in Korea.

 

The disaster is slick, it goes by unnoticed until it gets so close that it sneaks up on him, makes him go as far to be out of his element before he realizes that something is actually wrong.

 

“Darling,” Eames says, walking into the warehouse that Arthur had signed the papers for yesterday.

 

Naturally, it involves Eames.

 

Eames, is one of the most sharply intelligent men that Arthur knows. He doesn’t speak much, and when he does, it’s mostly infuriating nonsense, jabs at Arthur, or pet names, but he sees more than he speaks, and knows more than he sees. He’s the best forger, and is now one of the top extractors, since Cobb left the business a while ago.

 

He is, in short, valuable.

 

“Eames,” Arthur greets.

 

The job is complicated. It’s another inception attempt that involves a lot of research and perfect execution, and if that’s not hard enough, it’s on a small time frame with no room for error. They’ve pulled of three previous inceptions, and failed one. The one that failed was no one’s fault solely, but was the result of not enough shortcuts and too many loose ends.

 

It ended with deaths–projections and some of their team–and the shadow of limbo was thick on their backs.

 

That job had been the one in Stockholm, the one where everything changed for everyone involved. Eames had left with a frown etched into his face (almost permanently, it seemed), and the promise was apparent in his eyes.

 

Arthur didn’t know what that promise was.

 

(He still doesn’t.)

 

Arthur blames himself for the failed job, but Arthur blames himself for almost everything.

 

He looks up from his papers, and finds that the man that he sees in front of him isn’t the man that he left in Stockholm. He’s put on some muscle, but only by a couple of pounds, if that. His

hair is shorter, his beard shaved, his outfit fits him this time. He looks younger–good, _great_ even–and it’s the only time that Arthur has ever seen Eames look younger, or even around his age.

 

“Where’s Yusuf?” Eames asks.

 

Arthur turns back to his work, flipping through the documents that he’s gathered so far.

 

He has three different stages of research: pre-research (this involves finding out minute details about their mark, sifting through their personal records, job reports, and transcripts from the schools they’ve attended–this has nothing to do with the job, but Arthur can’t let it pass), the actual research (this when he goes through everything that he didn’t touch on before, more personal and less business; he gets inside the marks head to ensure a job-done-right), and post research (when he goes through what he has and works out any faults, makes sure to correct any inaccurate information).

 

It’s grueling, and he loses a lot of sleep over it, but he supposes that insomnia for a few weeks is better than the what would happen if he _doesn’t_ go through all of the extra work.

 

“Peru,” he replies. “He’ll be here in a week or so, after he ties up a job.” He stares at Eames accusingly. “Why’re you asking me anyway? Aren’t you ‘best mates’?” His voice goes softer, more

velvet-smooth, with a horrible accent at the end.

 

It makes Eames chuckle. “I’ve been on the run as of late, love.”

 

He notices it now.

 

He doesn’t even hear the rest of Eames’ response, because all that he can see is the perfect, straight line of teeth. The same line that used to be crooked, slightly askew, much like everything else about the man–if pressed Arthur might even admit that it’s one of the things that he genuinely likes about Eames.

 

“You-” Eames looks at him, waving a huge hand in his face. “Arthur?” He looks vaguely concerned.

 

“You-” Arthur stops for a second, clearing his throat. “Your teeth.”

 

Eames beams at him now, obviously pleased that Arthur had noticed. “Got them fixed, yeah? Like them?”

 

The look that Arthur gives him is one of horror. “No.”

 

Disappointment flashes and it’s almost enough for Arthur to wish that he had never said anything at all. Within a couple of seconds, the look is gone, and in it’s place is a careful mask, covered up my amusement. “Oh?” He asks, with a quirked brow.

 

“I liked them better before.”

 

That’s all that he gets to say before Ariadne comes crashing through the doors and hugs them both. It’s probably for the best, as Arthur probably would’ve ended up finding a way to fix Eames’ teeth–a way that possibly involved punching him.

 

\+ 

 

 

“Did you see Eames’ teeth?” Ariadne asks.

 

Arthur nods. “Yeah,” he says. He shoots for nonchalant, but just sounds annoyed instead.

 

“What’dya think?”

 

Arthur looks up from the pile of notes that rests on his lap. “I don’t like them.”

 

She chuckles, surprised. “I would’ve thought that you would.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because of your love for efficiency and perfection.”

 

He gives her a weird look. “They were perfect before,” says Arthur, matter-of-fact.

 

\+ 

 

 

Arthur avoids Eames for a couple of days, or rather, refuses to be in a room alone with him.

 

It’s mostly because he doesn’t trust himself, because he’s caught between being completely infuriated and utterly devastated, but mostly he’s actually just _confused_.

 

To Arthur, Eames always comes across as the type of guy that likes everything about himself–he surely broadcasts it enough–and to know that he thought that he needed to change his smile, for whatever reason, makes his stomach churn. So, he throws himself into his research a little harder than usual, and if he uses Ariadne as an excuse, than no one could really blame him.

 

The inevitable happens a few days later, when Yusuf is still not back from Peru and Ariadne is out getting lunch for the three of them. When Eames walk ins into the warehouse after his mid-morning smoking sessions, he knows that there is no way to avoid Eames now without some petty excuse.

 

“Nice to see you again, Arthur.” The way that his voice curls around his name and _tugs_ is enough to make him look up from his computer.

 

“I saw you yesterday, Eames.” Arthur answers with a frown.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Eames says. He sounds bothered, no ounce of amusement dripping off of his words.

 

Arthur looks up from his computer again. “No.”

 

Eames doesn’t dignify that with a response, and instead locks eyes with Arthur. “It’s my teeth, yeah?”

 

“Fine,” he replies, but it’s mostly to himself. “I can’t–you changed them.”

 

Eames nods, slowly. “I did,” he replies. “But I didn’t think that it’d matter to you. Frankly, I didn’t think you really noticed. You’re ignoring me, and it’s awfully heart-wrenching darling.”

 

Arthur purses his lips, doesn’t answer the first half of the question. Of course he would notice, anyone that knew Eames would notice, because it’s something so huge. One cannot change their teeth and expect it to slide by in the shadows, especially with someone so very good at pinpointing detail like Arthur is.

 

“How so? Miss the attention?” Arthur’s joking. Mostly.

 

“No,” says Eames, easily. The way that his lips twitch into a smirk, suggests otherwise.

 

Fortunately, Arthur isn’t a dick unless he absolutely needs to be, so he politely doesn’t mention it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it’s evident in his voice how awkward it is for him, to be apologizing. “I didn’t talk to you one on one because I’ve been suppressing the urge to punch you.”

Eames blinks. “That’s nothing new.”

 

He glares. “Be serious, Mr. Eames.”

 

Eames throws his hands up, dismissively, surrendering.

 

“I liked your teeth before,” he repeats, from nearly a week ago.

 

“Nothing I can do to fix them now,” Eames says. “But I probably would’ve refrained, if I had known, to save you the internal angst.”

 

Arthur snorts. “It’s getting quite unbearable.”

 

“Do I need to call Ariadne to tell her to come back, so you can have some support?”

 

Arthur narrows his eyes, and simply turns on his heel to walk away.

 

Of course, Eames follows.

 

\+ 

  


  


 

Two weeks later, when Eames falls face first into cement after being tripped by a vine on the ground, Arthur tries not to be excited–his fucking teeth, _finally_ –by the fact that his teeth are slightly askew again, one of them close to being out, hanging off by a single thread.

 

Instead he picks up Eames’ hand and kisses his mouth, through the taste of copper and the pain that racks through his body.


End file.
